


Prelude

by Skywalker



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Grumpy Old Men, M/M, Master/Servant, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywalker/pseuds/Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cruhteo and Saazbaum fuck Slaine senseless while snipping at each other. Pre-series, a few months before Asseylum's peace visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude

Count Cruhteo has been out of sorts all day, so it doesn’t surprise Slaine when the count shuts the study door behind them and orders Slaine to his knees. “Quickly,” he says irritably.

“Yes, my lord,” Slaine says tonelessly. With a speed and numbness he hadn’t possessed even a few months earlier, he sinks to the floor as the count sets his cane aside and leans back against the ornate desk. Slaine undoes Cruhteo’s trousers and tugs out the count’s cock, and doesn’t hesitate to part his lips. Obedience has become a survival skill; if he can diffuse the count’s irritation now, he’ll avoid a beating or two later. He lets Cruhteo’s cock rest on his tongue for a moment, a hot and heavy weight, as he mentally catalogues all the tricks he’s picked up to make the count come quickly and get this over with. He licks his way down Cruhteo, so wet that a long rope of his own saliva threads between his parted lips and the count’s dick as he pulls away. Cruhteo stiffens promisingly beneath him, and Slaine leans forward to take a few inches of cock in his mouth. His hands curl around the shaft, fingers sliding quick with the slickness of his own saliva. His own dick starts to stiffen under his heavy uniform trousers; he ignores it and focuses on bobbing his head in time with his hands. Wet, fast, and steady, and this can be over in ten minutes. 

But it does surprise Slaine when the door opens with an audible hiss of compressed air a few minutes later.

He freezes, too startled to pull away. The castle staff have never interrupted them before, and he’s not sure of what he should do or how Cruhteo will react. He glances up at Cruhteo through his lashes, mouth still stuffed with the count’s dick. To his surprise, the count doesn’t look ready to shout the interloper out of the room. His pale eyes are narrowed and his face is composed, though there’s a tension to his jaw that suggests that composure is a very tenuous mask. 

The door hisses shut again. “Apologies for disturbing you,” says a rich male voice from the entrance, but there’s plain, wry amusement in that tone that suggests the man isn’t sorry at all. Slaine knows he should recognize that voice, but his mind is racing too fast to focus on it. He’s more preoccupied with predicting the route of Cruhteo’s likely anger, and the best way to avoid bearing the brunt of it. 

“I hadn’t expected you until later, Count Saazbaum,” says Cruhteo. His voice is remarkably level for someone who’d been caught fucking his adjutant, Slaine thinks. He knows that his own face has to be redder than Mars, but Cruhteo seems icy and controlled. 

“I only wanted to be sure that Sir Trillram settled in to his new home.” Slaine remembers that Saazbaum is one of the more senior lords of the Thirty-Seven Clans, and that he had seen the man once or twice at the moon base before departing for Mars years ago. He doesn’t know the name Trillram, and can’t fathom why this castle would be a new home for a knight when Tharsis and Argyre are already here. Nor can he focus on the mystery while he’s waiting for a hint from Cruhteo about what to do. He hopes Cruhteo will just dismiss him, and that he can lay low for a few hours. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

That does stir Cruhteo into doing something; the count takes Slaine by the hair and pushes him away before reaching in his jacket for a handkerchief. Slaine, scuttling backward, gets his first glimpse of Count Saazbaum out of the corner of his eye. He’s as sharp-featured and angular as he remembers, and his lips are quirked into a thin, wry smile. “You aren’t interrupting anything,” Cruhteo says curtly. 

“No need for that, Cruhteo. It’s nothing I haven’t seen of you before,” Saazbaum chuckles. He crosses the room briskly and leans down to slip a hand beneath Slaine’s chin, lifting Slaine’s head. Slaine glances to Cruhteo, unsure how to react, but the count is motionless, eyes still narrowed, as though he doesn’t understand Saazbaum’s game any better than Slaine does. Saazbaum brushes a thumb over Slaine’s lower lip lightly, and Slaine shivers with silent unease. “This is Doctor Troyard’s son, isn’t it?” There’s a sharp intensity in Saazbaum’s eyes that are at odds with the nonchalance in his voice. “I wondered where he wound up.”

“Yes. And you’re dismissed, Troyard.” He doesn’t need to add that Slaine should keep this to himself. Slaine wouldn’t want to tell anyone in any case. 

“Abide a moment,” says Saazbaum lazily, before Slaine can get to his feet. His thumb slips between Slaine’s lips, and Slaine lets out a muffled noise of surprise before he can consider how Cruhteo would want him to react. Saazbaum’s thin-lipped smile stretches into a smirk as his eyes rove over Slaine. “You really should finish with him, Cruhteo. You’ll be out of sorts the whole meeting if you don’t.” He nudges Slaine’s erection lightly with a booted toe, and Slaine gasps around the count’s finger at the unexpected contact. “He’s certainly ready for it.” 

There’s a moment of absolute silence and stillness in the office, then Cruhteo’s familiar hand takes hold of Slaine’s collar, dragging him away from Saazbaum and forcing him back onto Cruhteo’s cock. To Slaine’s surprise, it’s even harder than it was before, and this time, Cruhteo doesn’t let Slaine set a pace. He takes hold of Slaine’s hair in both hands and fucks his mouth, forcing himself down Slaine’s throat almost to the balls. Slaine gags and braces his hands on Cruhteo’s thighs just to balance. 

The count is rarely this demanding, and Slaine hasn’t really figured out the best way to handle him like this yet. He doesn’t know what brought this on, either, unless – Count Saazbaum? ‘It’s nothing I haven’t seen of you before’…. He’s never imagined Cruhteo with another noble, but it would explain both Cruhteo’s failure to send Saazbaum away earlier and the drive with which he’s fucking Slaine’s mouth now. From the noises behind him, Slaine thinks Saazbaum has settled into one of the guest chairs in front of Cruhteo’s desk, and he’s relatively certain that Saazbaum is watching them. He hopes that Saazbaum is only interested in Cruhteo. So far as Slaine is concerned, they’re welcome to each other. 

Cruhteo comes with a grunt, his fingers gripping painfully tight in Slaine’s hair as he buries himself in Slaine’s mouth. Slaine takes as much as he can, disgusted but ever dutiful. Only a little drips to the floor beneath them. He swallows and takes a moment to try and catch his breath, then presses his mouth to the count’s dick again, still panting. Gently, cat-like and still panting, he laps the rest of the slick mess off of Cruhteo without being ordered. Cruhteo prefers being cleaned up, then stalking right back of to his duties around the castle, and Slaine assumes he’ll want to same before having to deal with Saazbaum.

“You have him well-trained,” observes Saazbaum huskily, as Slaine finally pulls away. 

Cruhteo frowns slightly. “Even dogs can learn some useful tricks.” Slaine bites the inside of his cheek and stares blankly at a wall to avoid reacting to that particular comment as Cruhteo refastens his trousers and enthrones himself behind the safety of his desk. Slaine wants this to be a sign of dismissal, but none comes. 

“If that’s the case, I’d like to see a few more.” Saazbaum’s long fingers rest lightly on Slaine’s arm, and most of Slaine’s hope of leaving quickly evaporates. Wide-eyed but silent, he looks to Cruhteo, not daring to voice his discomfort but desperately hoping that the count will still stop this from going any further. Cruhteo has never wanted to share him before, and can still send him away— Cruhteo hesitates a moment, staring at Saazbaum with narrowed blue eyes, and for an instant Slaine thinks his possessive streak will win out—

“Very well,” says Cruhteo, and Slaine’s jaw clenches in wordless anxiety as Saazbaum pulls Slaine up and into his lap. 

Slaine knows this will go easiest if he’s compliant, but he can’t help flinching as Saazbaum draws him in close. He settles Slaine facing Cruhteo and reaches around to slip fingers between the buttons of Slaine’s coat and over the taut, tense muscles of his thighs. Slaine’s eyes widen and he bites his lip to stop from yelping as Saazbaum rolls a nipple under his thumb then pinches, hard. The count deftly unbuttons the coat, and slides his hand over Slaine’s exposed chest, slowly running exploratory fingers over every dip and rise. His hand lingers a moment at the necklace around Slaine’s throat, and for a moment, Slaine is afraid that he’ll comment on it, but he moves on a moment later, ghosting a thumb over Slaine’s collarbone. Slaine, flushing, tries to look at the wall just to the right of Cruhteo, so he doesn’t have to meet the count’s eyes. Cruhteo seems intent, and perhaps a little displeased, and Slaine hopes it’s not directed at himself. 

One of Saazbaum’s hands settles lightly on Slaine’s crotch, and Slaine’s cock twitches at the faint pressure through fabric. The count keeps palming Slaine’s erection, and Slaine rocks automatically into the barely-there touch. He’s not used to being teased, and not knowing what to expect unnerves him. Saazbaum bites down Slaine’s shoulder and gives Slaine’s nipple another twist with his free hand, and Slaine hums an insuppressible moan from behind his clenched teeth. Behind him, Saazbaum chuckles and lifts his hand from Slaine’s crotch for just a moment, before lowering it below the waistband of Slaine’s uniform. Slaine throws back his head against Saazbaum’s shoulder and moans weakly.

“Reponsive, isn’t he,” Saazbaum says conversationally to Cruhteo, as though discussing the orbits of asteroids. 

“Terrans have their merits,” says Cruhteo, clipped and not quite as collected. 

“Hmph.” It’s a dismissive, derisive noise, but something about it makes Slaine think the derision isn’t actually directed at him or his birthplace. Or perhaps he just can’t concentrate on inflection, with Saazbaum’s fingers running through the curls of his pubic hair. “I won’t keep you waiting, then, Slaine Troyard.” Ah, when had Count Cruhteo mentioned Slaine’s given name—? “Disrobe.”

Startled, Slaine looks to Cruhteo. He takes orders from the castle staff from time to time, but usually only after being expressly sent to assist them. He’s not sure how much he should be obeying another count without Cruhteo approving these things, even with – or especially because – Saazbaum’s fingers are at the base of his cock. 

Cruhteo still looks irritated, and his lips thin further as he gives a tight nod. “Obey your betters.”

Shakily, Slaine pulls off his gloves, then slips his jacket off his arms. He doesn’t mean to make a show of it, but the process does leave him shifting in Saazbaum’s lap, and he can feel the older man stiffening against his ass. He swallows hard and tugs off the uniform boots, the socks… he hesitates a moment before stripping free of his pants, unsure of how to maneuver around Saazbaum’s hand. The count laughs quietly and withdraws the hand, pushing Slaine to stand and giving him a sharp slap across the ass. Flaming red, Slaine steps out of the last of his uniform, and raises a hand to remove his father’s pendant. To his surprise, Saazbaum catches his hand.

“Leave it,” he says huskily, grabbing Slaine from behind again. The count lifts him, settling him on Cruhteo’s desk on all fours before spreading Slaine’s ass cheeks. Slaine gives a shaky sigh of relief, burying his head in his arms so he doesn’t have to look at Cruhteo. Saazbaum is about to fuck him, and this unnerving encounter will be over. 

He hopes Saazbaum will at least stretch him out first; Cruhteo has fucked Slaine in here often enough that there’s a little bottle of lubricant in one of the desk drawers… 

Instead of cool slickness, something hot and wet rings his asshole at the same time that one of Saazbaum’s hands wraps around Slaine’s cock. Slaine jumps a little in surprise before realizing that this has to be Saazbaum’s tongue. He cringes in embarrassment and bites the soft skin of his own arm to stifle a drawn-out grown as Saazbaum continues, licking and sucking in small circles while pumping Slaine’s dick. Being fucked is filthy enough, but he never expected to have a Martian, let alone a count, eating his ass. 

Apparently, Cruhteo thinks along the same lines. “You demean yourself, Count Saazbaum,” he says tersely. 

Saazbaum pauses a moment, then takes an especially long, lavisicious lick from Slaine’s balls to his asshole. Slaine gasps audibly and slams into Saazbaum’s hand uncontrollably. “Perhaps. But I’d say it’s worth it.” The count’s free hand takes Slaine by the hair, lifting his head so that he has to look at Cruhteo. He must be a mess – lips parted, breathing hard, eyes slightly unfocused – because Cruhteo looks as intent and annoyed as ever, and won’t meet Slaine’s eyes. Instead, he’s focused on – Slaine would go redder if he could, but at this point it seems impossible – Slaine’s ass. Slaine drops his head as soon as Saazbaum releases his hair. Of course Cruhteo would be irritated by another count debasing himself. Cruhteo has too much pride in his own position, and in the Martian nobility generally. He would never stoop this low… but the thought takes root in Slaine’s imagination and stays there – composed, icy Cruhteo pinning Slaine’s hips down and digging fingers into his ass-cheeks… 

Slaine groans at the image, even as he Saazbaum’s tongue slips inside his asshole and his firm grip rhythmically jerks him off. The heady rush of all this stimulation is winning out over Slaine’s intellectual disgust and unease and worry about what Cruhteo will do to him when this is over. In short order, he can only concentrate on Saazbaum’s tongue and fingers, and arching his hips for more stimulation from one or the other. His mouth slips away from the muffling protection of his hands, and he pants audibly until the panting turns into a strangled shout as he comes in Saazbaum’s hand.

For one glorious moment, he’s too blissful to worry about being a Terran servant at the mercy of a count’s whims. He stays on his knees, catching his breath, and enjoys being warm and flushed and satisfied. The pleasant daze doesn’t last long; a few heartbeats later, Saazbaum lifts Slaine’s head again and his fingers press against Slaine’s mouth, covered in sticky cum. Slaine wrinkles his nose and turns his head away for a split second before the reality of his life here sinks back in. Clean it up, Terran, he thinks dully. Resignedly, he bows his head to lap at Saazbaum’s fingers before the count can throw the familiar invective, or some variation on it, at him. It’s as salty and bitter as Cruhteo’s, and it takes more willpower to actively lick it up than to let the count slam it down his throat, but Saazbaum must take some perverse pleasure in it. The man’s fingers slip past his lips, sliding in and out until Slaine is sucking Saazbaum’s fingers as though he were back on Cruhteo’s cock. 

“Enough toying with him,” growls Cruhteo. Slaine glances at him, startled, and realizes that those blue eyes are narrowed irritably at Saazbaum, not at him. And there’s a rough edge to his cultured voice that Slaine has only heard when Cruhteo is buried inside Slaine— 

Before Slaine can string these new observations together, Saazbaum flips him onto his back.  
“As you wish, Count Cruhteo.”

Slaine glances warily between the two counts; Cruhteo still looks quietly angry, and Saazbaum is smiling back across the desk as though Cruhteo’s reaction is as interesting as having Slaine naked and spread-legged in front of him. “I presume you still keep lubricant in here.” Again, the insinuation of something in the past. A frown flickers across Cruhteo’s face, but Slaine realizes that Saazbaum hasn’t left him much choice – Cruhteo did just tell Saazbaum to stop toying with Slaine. There’s a quick, tense moment, but Slaine hears a desk drawer open and close, and something small slide across the desk to Saazbaum. “Much obliged.”

How Saazbaum can keep talking like they’re discussing Kat specs is beyond Slaine. He tries to relax as he hears the familiar noise of the little bottle opening, but he still winces as a first slick finger presses in. It’s not painful, but even after months at Cruhteo’s side, it still feels strange. The count adds a second finger, and a third, scissoring and stretching wide enough that it does start to become uncomfortable. Saazbaum isn’t ungentle about it, but the deliberate slowness of his pace gives Slaine time to get anxious again. The count hadn’t hurt him so far, but that wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t want to try something particularly sadistic, with a Terran close at hand –

It’s actually a relief when Saazbaum withdraws his fingers and presses his cock to Slaine’s slick asshole. This, he knows he can handle. He braces himself against the desk, eyes squeezed closed, as the count pushes slowly deeper. He bites his lip, but can’t stop himself from grimacing as Saazbaum withdraws, then plunges in again. To his surprise, a familiar hand strokes his cheek. He cranes his neck back, surprised, to see Cruhteo still watching Saazbaum. 

Slaine can’t quite interpret the touch – is Cruhteo offering reassurance? That has to be wishful thinking; Cruhteo didn’t have a kind word to spare when Slaine arrived here as an orphan, and he hasn’t been comforting any of the times that he himself fucked Slaine. Perhaps the count is telling him to behave for Saazbaum? It’s possible, but… there’s something proprietary in the way Cruhteo cups Slaine’s face in his hand, and on an overstimulated impulse, Slaine nuzzles into it like a needy dog. Cruhteo finally looks down at him, and there’s none of the contempt that Slaine would expect if Cruhteo were displeased with Slaine’s uncomfortable faces. There’s only irritation at Saazbaum, which softens into clear, heavy-lidded lust as he meets Slaine’s eyes. The look makes Slaine’s breath catch.

“Hmm,” purrs Saazbaum contemplatively. Out of the corner of his eye, Slaine can see Saazbaum’s genial smile take on an edge of challenge. He takes hold of Slaine’s legs and swings them onto his shoulders, then wraps his hands around Slaine’s hips, fingers digging into the clenched muscles of his ass. That grip is just slightly too tight to be comfortable, and Saazbaum keeps shifting Slaine’s hips as he thrusts until Slaine lets out a loud groan that verges on an undignified yelp. His fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth desk as the wave of warmth slams through his body, and his toes curl reflexively behind Saazbaum’s head. He wants to lock his legs around the count and keep him pressed that far inside him, but Saazbaum is already pulling out and pushing back in, hitting the same spot. Slaine arches with his thrusts, needing that extra bit of pressure of slamming himself onto Saazbaum’s cock. Slaine himself is hard again, and leaking precum across his stomach. Shakily, he reaches for his own dick, but the moment he lifts a finger, Cruhteo’s hand clamps around his wrist. 

Slaine whimpers in wordless frustration, unused to being forbidden to touch himself, but he doesn’t dare disobey such a clear order. He resigns himself to moaning around Saazbaum’s dick until one or the other of them comes, but a few thrusts later, Cruhteo’s mouth crushes against his, muffling Slaine’s noise. It’s an awkward angle, with Cruhteo still standing behind the desk and Slaine still on his back, but there’s no mistaking the unyielding possessiveness in Cruhteo now. There’s an absolute dominance to it that must come part and parcel with being raised as a nobleman; Slaine yields to it reflexively, lips parting. Cruhteo worries at Slaine’s lower lip with his teeth, hard enough to leave bruising tomorrow, then moves to the soft skin at the curve of Slaine’s neck, biting his way down. Slaine tries to keep quiet, but when he starts groaning again, Cruhteo’s breath quickens in ear, and he bites bruisingly again. Comprehending the effect he’s having, Slaine moans louder. It’s not a request, because servants don’t make requests of their lords, but it expresses his desperation, and how close he is to coming. 

Cruhteo lifts his mouth from Slaine’s neck, and Slaine whines at the loss, but he gasps sharply when Cruhteo’s teeth scrape over his nipple. Lick, scrape. Lick, scrape, lick scrape –

“Count—”

Cruhteo’s fingers clamp painfully on Slaine’s wrist, but his mouth still sucks hungrily at Slaine’s skin. Slaine squirms underneath the two men. There are hands all over him; the synthetic wood of the desk is slick with his own sweat. He feels like the counts are pulling him apart, and he just wants one or the other of them to touch him, but it’s not his place to demand things of either of them. His next groan is more of a needy, chest-wracking sob that deepens as Cruhteo’s mouth moves lower, down to his navel. 

A stray wisp of Cruhteo’s fine hair brushes against the tip of Slaine’s cock, and that ridiculously small touch is enough that Slaine’s vision narrows in a shower of sparks. 

“Who’s toying with him now?” Saazbaum asks, breathless but still smug. 

Slaine feels Cruhteo’s frown as a twist of lips against his skin; then Cruhteo lifts his head. Slaine expects him to start teasing him somewhere else, but the count lifts the hand on Slaine’s wrist, too, and closes his fingers around Slaine’s cock. Slaine bucks into Cruhteo’s hand shamelessly and uncontrollably. He’s strung out enough that he comes with a shout after two strokes, a deep, heady rush from groin to toes that has him quivering bonelessly between the counts. Saazbaum fucks him through his orgasm, murmuring appreciatively as Slaine’s entire body clenches around him, and the light brush of Cruhteo’s fingers over his torso all pleasurable electric jolts against his skin. His post-orgasmic mindlessness lasts longer this time, and his head droops limply into the warmth of Cruhteo’s hand. Cruhteo stays there, stroking the curve of Slaine’s chin, until Saazbaum comes with a grunt a few minutes later, slamming into Slaine and staying there for a few long heartbeats. Slaine feels a mess of lubricant and cum smearing across his thighs when the count finally pulls away, but he’s still too exhausted to care. His calves drop limply over the side of the desk when Saazbaum sets him down, and Slaine lies bonelessly in a sticky, sweaty pile of quivering limbs. He hears, without looking up, Saazbaum settling in a chair opposite Cruhteo.

“He looks good like this,” Saazbaum muses. He runs a hand over Slaine’s thigh lazily; in the aftermath of his orgasm, it’s enough that Slaine’s breath catches. “I’d enjoy bringing him back with me.”

That gets through Slaine’s daze. He tenses, and both counts must notice it. Cruhteo is harsh and not particularly kind, but this castle is the only home Slaine has known since his father died. There are a handful of people who are kind enough to him, here, and he knows who to avoid. He can survive here. But he doesn’t know Saazbaum, or the people under the count, or if he’d be leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire. He wants to plead his case to Cruhteo, but it just isn’t his place. Not as a servant or a Terran. He closes his eyes and swallows, bracing for the worst.

“I’ll have need of him on the return voyage,” Cruhteo replies a moment later, all ice. 

Saazbaum tsks in exaggerated disappointment, and pulls his hand off of Slaine. “You’ll need him, or she’ll need him?” None of this makes any sense; the Landing Castles haven’t left Earth’s orbit in fifteen years. And ‘she’—?

“They’re not exclusive. Slaine.” 

His name is sharp and curt, like the crack of a whip. “My lord?” he asks, craning his neck as he tries to scramble into a somewhat respectable sitting position. His legs still don’t want to move.

“Attend me.”

Shakily, Slaine slides off the table and straddles Cruhteo’s lap. The count is hard again, his erection tenting the fine material of his uniform. Slaine is too tired for this, really, but Saazbaum’s request still worries at him, even with – or because of – Cruhteo’s strangely worded rejection. 

I’ll show you, he thinks. I’ll show you why you should keep me here.

He throws his tired arms around Cruhteo’s shoulders and bows his head, offering himself up for a kiss. 

Cruhteo takes hold of Slaine’s pendant and pulls him close by the chain. Slaine shivers at the little prickle of pain and the clarity of the command both, and parts his lips before Cruhteo is even on him. The tug of the chain and Cruhteo’s mouth keep him in his place while the count’s tongue presses deeper into his mouth. Slaine tries to kiss back, but Cruhteo is too quick and demanding, and Slaine gives up hope of having any sort of control over this. After a minute, he starts fumbling with the count’s cravat; he must have stripped Cruhteo a dozen times, but never with Cruhteo this forceful. The count is usually brusque and composed, even while fucking Slaine, but now his fingers dig into the flexing muscles of Slaine’s ass, kneading at the flesh as Slaine struggles with coat and shirt buttons by feel. Slaine keeps up a steady string of gratified moans; it’s easy enough, and it’s clearly satisfying for the count. He finally has the various fastenings of Cruhteo’s shirt undone; he slides a hand down the exposed skin to the waist of Cruhteo’s trousers slowly. The count finally pulls back from the kiss, and Slaine whimpers at the neglect but lowers his gaze and focuses on freeing Cruhteo’s cock. It’s a stark difference from earlier; Slaine’s fingers are tired and shaky instead of efficient and focused on ending things, and Cruhteo is completely hard underneath his hands. Slaine runs the callused pads of his fingertips up and down its length needily while he builds up to resolve to make a bolder move, then melts against Cruhteo, spreading his knees and sinking lower until his ass is just flush with Cruhteo’s dick, and he’s ready to guide it in—

“Greedy boy,” murmurs Cruhteo, though without reproach. He catches Slaine below the arm and stands, dragging Slaine to his feet with him. 

The count slips off those formal black boots, shrugs off his unfastened uniform. Even stripped of all the accoutrements of rank, he carries himself like a nobleman, sitting down again straight-backed and proper. That’s fine. Slaine shapes his body language to compliment that hauteur: fluid and yielding, he settles at Cruhteo’s feet, head resting against the count’s thigh, ready for a command. He’ll suck Cruhteo off again if that’s what the count wants, but Slaine is just starting to get hard again, and so long as he’s already slick and stretched out, it wouldn’t be unpleasant to be fucked, particularly if Cruhteo will let him touch himself this time. 

Cruhteo seems to be mulling the decision over himself; his pale eyes rove unblinkingly over Slaine’s mussed hair, the reddening marks down his neck and chest, the streaks of cum across his stomach and thighs, his stiffening cock. Slaine pushes a flicker of embarrassment away forcefully; Cruhteo wants him like this, and until Saazbaum leaves, that’s all that matters. He’ll play into it. He leans forward, licking his lips slightly – but Cruhteo looks up and frowns suddenly. Before Slaine can follow the count’s gaze, Saazbaum is at Cruhteo’s side, perching hawk-like on the arm of the chair. “Allow me to assist,” he drawls, and bends to kiss Cruhteo.

Cruhteo’s expression of surprise only lasts an instant before it’s replaced with flinty resolve. He takes Saazbaum by the cravat, yanking him deeper into the kiss. From his awkward angle, Slaine can still see that there’s no awkwardness in the gesture; there’s a clear familiarity in the way they press against each other. But whatever they had once, he understands why it didn’t last. They’re both utterly unyielding, and their kiss is almost a duel. 

If it’s a fight, Slaine knows whose side he needs to back. He shifts onto his knees and cranes his neck to lick at Saazbaum’s hand. The count has slipped his fingers in Slaine’s mouth twice now; Slaine’s reasonably certain Saazbaum is interested in his tongue. The hunch pays off. Saazbaum turns his head just slightly to look at Slaine out of the corner of his eye, and Cruhteo seizes on the slight distraction to pull Saazbaum’s cravat off with a snap and nip quickly at the exposed flesh of his collarbone. Saazbaum’s face clouds in the first look of irritation Slaine’s seen on him, and he reaches down to take Slaine by the arm, dragging him back up into Cruhteo’s lap. 

Slaine finds himself with his back to Cruhteo’s bare chest, this time, and his presence between them seems to defuse the storm brewing between the counts. He is, apparently, a more palatable battleground for their private war. Cruhteo plants open-mouthed kisses up his spine, and Saazbaum down his neck; Slaine squirms between them, his ass grinding against Cruhteo’s dick. Slaine turns his head, trying to catch Cruhteo’s mouth, and Cruhteo looks briefly self-satisfied before fisting a hand in Slaine’s hair and pressing him close. Saazbaum slips lower, spreading Slaine’s thighs with his hands and nibbling up the soft skin. Slaine shivers and moans plaintively against Cruhteo –

Then yelps in surprise as Saazbaum’s mouth closes over the tip of his cock.

The jolt of warmth catches him completely by surprise, and he thinks he might have tumbled out of the chair if it weren’t for Cruhteo’s arm wrapped around his chest. As it is, he strains to watch Saazbaum out of the corner of his eye, startled but entranced. Cruhteo has never sucked him off before; Slaine suspects that it’s another thing too “demeaning” for a proper count to do to a Terran dog. But Saazbaum clearly has different standards of propriety than Cruhteo, and for the moment Slaine is glad of it.

The count’s tongue alternates between circling Slaine’s cock and sucking shamelessly with loud, wet pops. Slaine is completely hard in a few racing heartbeats, shaking in Cruhteo’s arms. His kisses come quick and distracted against Cruhteo’s mouth, now; it’s hard to concentrate on Cruhteo when Slaine is fixated on the tangle of Saazbaum’s curly dark hair between his legs. Faster, he thinks dizzily, faster, deeper, lower – but as unconventional as Saazbaum’s approach to propriety is, Slaine doesn’t dare demand more from a Versian. He leans back to brace himself against Cruhteo’s reassuring, familiar solidity, but Cruhteo’s hands disentangle from his hair and settle on his hips, lifting him slightly. 

Slaine’s lips part in breathy anticipation, and he reaches back to spread his own ass for the count. Cruhteo pushes into him with a hoarse groan before biting down on Slaine’s shoulder, and Slaine cries out wantonly, drowning out the wet sounds of Saazbaum’s mouth and his own slick asshole clenching around Cruhteo’s cock. The hands and mouths and dick pressing against him are almost overwhelming, but the counts are so slow and deliberate that he wants to scream; only years of obedience stop him from trying to ride Cruhteo’s dick at his own pace, from twining his hands in Saazbaum’s hair and pulling him lower. Instead, he bends pliantly as Cruhteo slams into him, shifting Slaine’s hips experimentally until Slaine throws back his head and arches into Saazbaum’s mouth with a drawn-out, staccato shout. Cruhteo kisses up Slaine’s offered neck with self-assured deliberateness, then slams into that bundle of nerves again. 

“How about here?” he growls, voice smug but husky. Saazbaum has brought out something fierce and competitive in the count that makes Slaine shiver to hear, and that competitiveness has the two of them both trying to stir Slaine into a frenzy. It’s working far too well. 

An early lesson flutters to the front of Slaine’s fuzzy mind – speak when spoken to. “Aaah,” he tries, but Saazbaum is on the offensive again, lapping down Slaine’s cock to his balls just as Cruhteo slams into him again, and Slaine can’t do anything more than babble as an electric current surges through him. “Count Cruhteo – ” What word is he looking for? Oh, of course – “Yes – I –” He doesn’t get further than that, because Cruhteo buries himself in Slaine again, and Slaine squeezes around him and gives up. Thankfully, Cruhteo doesn’t seem to expect much more of him than clenching muscles and grateful moaning. 

Saazbaum, on the other hand, is not so easily satisfied. He takes Slaine’s cock in both hands as his tongue washes at his balls, then switches mouth and hands so that he’s swallowing Slaine almost completely, and engulfing the rest of him with saliva-slick fingers. Saazbaum’s shameless intensity is unlike anything Slaine has experienced among the proud Orbital Knights; he seems utterly focused on bringing Slaine to orgasm, without any concern for the means. The thought that the most senior Orbital Knight wants him this badly is inexplicable enough that a faint sense of alarm prickles through Slaine’s bleary mind, at least for the heartbeat it takes until Saazbaum sucks down another inch and Cruhteo scrapes teeth against his earlobe and Slaine stops worrying about why Saazbaum has chosen his body as a battleground and just wants them to get him off already. He only needs them to keep it up another minute or two at most… 

He writhes back against Cruhteo in hopeful encouragement, and a few thrusts and strokes later, the insuppressible pressure of an orgasm begins to build inside him. His breath comes in incoherent gasps, and his vision goes black and he comes in Saazbaum’s mouth in a hot rush. Cruhteo continues slamming into him, even as Slaine gasps for air and goes tight around his dick, his whole body clenching as nerves fire from his scalp to curling toes. 

As his mind drifts back into a foggy afterglow, Slaine sees Saazbaum getting to his feet, looking at Cruhteo and licking his lips. Slaine can’t see Cruhteo’s face, but the count shifts to support Slaine’s limp, quivering body. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against Cruhteo’s shoulder thoughtlessly, for the warmth and solidity of it and to appreciate Cruhteo’s breath coming faster and harder in his ear. The obvious need is comforting enough that Slaine finally relaxes, feeling secure and almost content. 

The peaceableness ends abruptly when Saazbaum takes Slaine by the chin, tugging him forward and pressing his cock between Slaine’s lips the moment he opens his mouth in surprise. Startled, Slaine nearly gags on it. The sense of revulsion that hits a moment later – this was just in my ass; this is disgusting – but Saazbaum has a firm grip on him, and Slaine can’t pull away. 

“Saazbaum.” Cruhteo’s voice is almost a snarl, and he keeps a firm hold on Slaine’s arms. There’s enough tightness in his fingers that Slaine thinks Cruhteo might pull him back, but that might be wishful thinking—

“Now, Cruhteo, I won’t see you for months.” Saazbaum strokes Slaine’s cheek and ignores the tension in Cruhteo’s voice. “Consider this a parting gift – in return for the loan of Nilokeras, if you will.”

Cruhteo’s fingers constrict on Slaine’s arms for a moment, then loosen entirely. “Very well.” 

Slaine closes his eyes in silent resignation, not needing explicit instructions to realize what’s expected of him, and laves at the underside of Saazbaum’s cock with his tongue. He still doesn’t understand this talk of a voyage, or why another Kataphract is being stationed here, or the Versian politics of reassigning knights, but apparently the lot of it is important enough that Cruhteo is willing to yield Slaine’s mouth a while longer. 

Or maybe he doesn’t want an open fight, he thinks blearily, as Cruhteo shifts behind him, adjusting to Slaine’s new position between their cocks before beginning to fuck him again. He knows, vaguely, that there were more Orbital Clans in the moon’s wreckage once, that the counts have feuded with each other before. Probably not over Terran servants, he muses, too tired to be really bitter. 

Blowing Saazbaum is difficult and uncomfortable with his arms behind his back; Slaine struggles to keep his head up, and mostly lets Cruhteo’s thrusts push him up and down Saazbaum’s cock. He barely manages to pull his head free every so often, gasping for breath while Saazbaum’s dick slides against his cheek, before the count takes him by the chin again in soft rebuke, and Slaine is back to sucking down as much as he can and hoping he doesn’t gag on it again. He tries to wrest a little control over his position by moaning against Saazbaum and rocking his hips against Cruhteo, hoping that the soft vibration or extra friction will bring one of them to orgasm and get him out of being pinioned between them. It has the intended effect on Cruhteo, or perhaps the count was just close to coming anyway, because Cruhteo buries himself to the hilt in Slaine, yanking his shoulders back painfully and staying there while Slaine counts heartbeats and sucks Saazbaum down and waits for his orgasm to finish. 

Finally, finally, Cruhteo releases him, settling heavily back into his chair and letting Slaine collapse on his hands and knees at Saazbaum’s boots, cum dripping out of his ass as he tries shakily to catch his breath. Saazbaum, blessedly, gives him that precious minute to recover by stripping out of his uniform. Slaine still feels unsteady from his last orgasm, and he’d really prefer to curl up at Cruhteo’s feet and sleep for days, but Saazbaum’s coat dropping to the floor makes it clear that this isn’t over, not yet. And, too soon, the count bends and scoops Slaine up, sitting back against the desk and pulling Slaine into his lap. Slaine locks his legs around Saazbaum’s hips pliantly, too weary to either struggle or offer encouragement. 

Saazbaum smiles indulgently and smooths Slaine’s disheveled hair with a proprietary, overfamiliar air. He leans in, and for a moment, Slaine thinks he’s going to worry at the marks Cruhteo has left down his neck, but Saazbaum murmurs quietly instead. “I’ve had a difficult time tracking you down, you know,” he muses, too soft for the sound to carry past Slaine’s ear. Slaine blinks, uncomprehending. “But this will all be over soon.” There’s an odd, intently pensive note in the count’s voice that makes him think Saazbaum is referring to something beyond fucking him; it unsettles Slaine all over again. He’s debating making some sort of noise loud enough to draw Cruhteo’s attention, but Saazbaum pulls back places a finger on his lips. The smile doesn’t falter, but his eyes narrow in such a familiarly stern way that Slaine swallows hard and keeps silent. Saazbaum nods, and shifts to lower Slaine onto the desk, ass in the air again. “I’ll make this easy for you,” he says, louder and still genial, as though the whispered words had never happened. 

He runs a hand down Slaine’s quavering thigh, then runs his cock down the cleft of Slaine’s ass. Slaine groans at the intrusion, but Saazbaum is right – fucked out and shaky as he is, it’s much easier to let Saazbaum fuck him into the desk than it would have been to blow him. He braces himself against the synthetic wood as Saazbaum finishes off inside him again, and barely stays upright when the count pulls out of him. 

He hears the thump of leather, the rustle of fabric; at least one of them is getting dressed, and he thinks he hears Saazbaum looking for wherever Cruhteo threw his cravat to. The sound of uniforms being pulled on is sweetest noise Slaine has heard in a long time. He forces himself to sit up on the messy desk, though he still doesn’t trust his legs yet. He yawns blearily without meaning to, and both counts turn to look at him. Saazbaum’s brows arch in amusement and Cruhteo looks – well, stern as always, but content, and not displeased with him. He steps closer and taps Slaine’s thigh with his cane, not enough to hurt. “Clean yourself up,” he orders, tossing Slaine the small key that opens the short and blessedly private hall from Cruhteo’s study to the count’s private apartments. 

“Y-yes, my lord.” Slaine fumbles, but manages to catch hold of it, unperturbed by the characteristically brusque dismissal. Wobbly, he drops to the floor and gathers his things in his arms, glad to be sent away. But before he can reach the door, Cruhteo reaches out and catches his arm, pulling him back. Slaine almost jumps in surprise, but the count takes him by the chin and Slaine startles into stillness. Cruhteo surprises him again by leaning to kiss him. It’s light and restrained, barely a brush of lips, but unsteady as he is, there’s a moment where Slaine thinks his knees might buckle. Out of the corner of his eyes, Slaine sees Saazbaum pause irritably in buttoning up his coat, and he understands that Cruhteo is claiming him as one last small victory. Slaine lifts onto his bare toes to kiss back, and is rewarded with a thin smirk when Cruhteo draws back a beat later. Slaine bows his head respectfully, first to Cruhteo and then to Saazbaum, and skitters from the room.

He runs his tongue over his lips as the door shuts behind him and he stumbles down the hall. There was nothing kind about that final kiss, but he’s past expecting kindness from Cruhteo. All he needs is a place to call home.

And he’s won that, at least for a few months more.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to fill a request on /y/.


End file.
